The unborn
Script you have
Still to write, how
Much longer can you bear not
To issue it? This is not—
And I repeat—a mere trifling
Rhetorical question
You are free to answer
At your own discretion,
But one you must dispatch
With no waste of time or talent,
And swear never again
To shame my good name
By writing plodding
Shoddy verse under
A slew
Of shady noms de plume;
It’s either that or else. . .
Abort, sport and don't bother
Cleaning up that bloody
Mess you always leave so
Artfully behind you.
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